


Second Chances

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-01-13
Updated: 1999-01-13
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Second Chances by K'Immielvr

_Second Chances_

_By K'Immielvr_

**_Disclaimer:_** Duncan MacLeod, Kronos, Methos, Joe, Cassandra, and the other Highlander characters mentioned are all owned by Davis/Panzer Productions. I'm just borrowing them for fun for a little while. Camembert is loosely based on a character in the film "Les Amants du Pont-Neuf." Other characters are my own creation. 

Many Thanks go to Amand-r and Megan for being kind enough to beta for me. Thanks also to Sarah in France for her invaluable help on Paris. And also to Rebecca Neason for her book "Shadow of Obsession" which gave me the wonderful quote from Darius. 

Note: EMMAOS is an organization that helps the homeless find accommodation for the night. This take place approximately a year or so after Revelation 6:8 and (not that it makes a bit of difference) the events of the Ahriman arc and beyond haven't happened. 

I **_love feedback_** so please feel free to email me. 

**_Paris, 1998_**

It was the seventh anniversary of the old priest's death. Duncan MacLeod walked into the St. Joseph's chapel at the side of St. Julien de Pauvre to light a candle in Darius' memory. He always tried to make sure he was in Paris to honour his friend's life. It was the least he could do for his mentor. As he crossed the threshold he sensed the familiar sensation of another Immortal. For a moment out of habit, MacLeod thought of the priest, but then he saw a figure hunched over in prayer at the communion bar. The figure was dressed in a plain brown suit, it appeared to be an off-the-rack outfit from a chain department store. The brown hair was combed, but not to any particular style; it was long too, not as long as Mac's own, but it reached passed the nape of his neck. MacLeod started to walk up to the other Immortal; as he did so the man turned around. The Scot gasped in surprise and shock, and even though on Holy Ground his hand went instinctively under his coat, reaching for his sword. 

"You're dead!" 

The man smiled broadly and kindly at MacLeod. After crossing himself he stood and walked over to him with outstretched arms. "I know you do not trust me, you have every reason not to. But I am not who I was, I wish to be your friend, everybody's friend. Instead of killing, I want to help save the hungry, the persecuted, the exploited." The man paused, "You see Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, all I want is peace among our kind and amongst mortals, as did Darius." 

Duncan watched the man carefully, but he also loosened his grip ever so slightly on his katana. "What are you playing at? I killed you Kronos, took your Quickening." 

Once again the Horseman smiled openly at his former nemesis. "I am playing at nothing, MacLeod. And if you can trust me, if only for a short while I will tell you all that happened after the fight in Bordeaux." 

Duncan laughed, his head rolling back as he did so, but his eyes never left Kronos for a second. "You really expect me to believe you've changed." 

"I don't expect anything, Duncan. If you don't believe that I've truly changed, I understand. I had trouble believing it myself." Kronos paused, he opened the flap of his jacket, "See I carry no sword now. I have left death and destruction behind." 

MacLeod sat down on a nearby chair. This was really too much to take in. Kronos, leader of the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse, a megalomaniac obsessed with the destruction of the world, not to mention Mac's own greatest foe, was now a man of peace. It was impossible. Hell, Kronos just being alive was impossible, yet here he was. MacLeod took a deep breath. "Okay, so tell me what happened at the base." 

Pulling up a chair, Kronos sat opposite Duncan. He rested his elbows on his thighs, pressing his palms together, as in prayer. The former Horseman looked straight into the Highlander's brown eyes. 

"You had beaten me, MacLeod. We were on the gantry and you had knocked my sword out of my hand, and I was momentarily dazed. I was expecting death. Then the instant your sword sliced downward, you seemed distracted by Methos killing Silas. I took the opportunity to duck from your grasp as you swung down and you hit me with the hilt of your sword. I must have been unconscious for a short while, because the next thing I remember is a Quickening raging all around me. In that confusion I managed to pull myself over the edge of the platform and fall into the water below. I got tangled in some cables and drowned. You never took my power MacLeod. Silas was old, older than me, and must have had a powerful Quickening which you and Methos somehow shared." Kronos paused briefly when he saw MacLeod's incredulity. He shrugged. "Don't ask me to explain how, but that is what happened. 

"After you and Methos left the base, I managed to struggle free and after retrieving my sword, I searched Bordeaux for the both of you. My heart was filled with rage and my head with nothing but revenge for the deaths of Caspian and Silas. I searched for months, but nothing turned up. 

"Then I heard Methos was in Greece or Turkey, so I traveled out that way and found myself on Rhodes. I find it almost ironic that I should be reborn on the island of my birth, over 3700 years ago. When I was there deciding which course to take to find and finish both you and Methos I heard about another Immortal living on the island. He had apparently lived there centuries. I found him in a cave, considered a holy site, living as a hermit. He knew who I was...and what I was. 

"I demanded to know who he was. He called himself Rhodius and he was old, perhaps nearly as old as Methos. He told me he lived for peace. At one time he tried to teach peace to Immortals. He used to go out in the world preaching the word to Immortals like me, but after millennia of failures he had decided to shut himself away in his cave. 

"I went back several times to speak with him, garnering his trust, pretending to learn his teachings and all the time planning to lure him off Holy Ground so I could take his head. Eventually one day, he suggested we go for a walk and as we strolled along the beach near his cave, I drew my sword. He looked at me in a strange way, and at that time I didn't know what it meant. The man just let me take his head...he didn't carry a sword or anything. I was surprised, but I took it anyway." 

Kronos ran a hand through his hair, took a deep breath and continued. "You have to understand that was the old Kronos, what happened during that Quickening was indescribable, but I'll try to explain. This sensation of total peace washed over me, in an instant I felt compassion, love, peace, things I've never felt. I tried to fight it, I did not want to change. I liked being Kronos; I enjoyed what I did, the killing, the fear I instilled, being the last thing many would see. I tried to outrun the Quickening, but, of course, it caught up with me. 

"By the end of it I was on my hands and knees, sobbing. Eventually I looked down at my sword and knew that I would never pick it up again. I stayed in the hermit's cave for some days after, trying to decide what to do with my new life. I hadn't wanted this change, for a while I almost resented it. But I knew I could never harm another living soul ever again." Duncan was dumbfounded by this revelation, he tried to say something, but he could find no words. 

Kronos saw him. "I know, it's impossible, but it is true. One day as I was contemplating my future, I remembered hearing about Darius and how something similar had happened to him. Also how he'd made his life one long crusade for the poor, destitute and dying. I knew this is what was required of me. How I knew, I don't know. I'm still not sure where all these thoughts are coming from. Sometimes it doesn't seem like they're from me, but they are. So I came here to Darius' church, for...I don't know. Inspiration? And I find you Highlander. You knew Darius?" 

For the first time in Kronos' story, Duncan, who had been amazed by what he'd just heard, spoke. "Yes, he was a very good friend." MacLeod didn't know what to make of this new Kronos. The story was plausible, that was how Darius had become the great man he was. He himself had undergone a Dark Quickening, and if it hadn't been for Methos, God only knows what would have happened. So Kronos' transformation was possible, but this _was_ Kronos. It was possible too of course, and probably much more likely the entire thing was a charade. The Scot looked into the former Horseman's eyes, studying to see if there was any sign that the true Kronos was there under the façade. Nothing, all he saw was compassion and the man's sincerity. He couldn't say that the face was one of peace and love as Darius' had been, the scar told too much of the man's violent past. "You have a long way to go before you come close to Darius." 

"I know, I'm not asking for a popularity contest. I'll never become the saint Darius was. But if I could learn something of his teachings, could you help me Duncan MacLeod?" 

MacLeod didn't know what to say. A small part of him wanted to believe that Kronos had changed. As a person who liked to see the good in people, he wanted to give him a chance. But this was Kronos. "Look, if you're sincere I'd like to help. But..." 

"But I was Kronos...you couldn't forgive Methos for what he had been. And look how long you had known him!" 

This touched a nerve in MacLeod, it had taken him quite some time to accept Methos' past, that he was no longer the killer he used to be. Methos didn't even have the benefit of a so-called Light Quickening to bring on the change. Suddenly MacLeod wished the old man were here, instead of traipsing off around the world somewhere, he would know if Kronos were faking it. No one alive knew this man better. 

As if knowing what MacLeod was thinking, Kronos broke through his thoughts, "Methos would never believe this, we go back too far. If you told him about this he'd just laugh and then come for my head." 

Remembering how Methos set up the whole thing at the base, MacLeod wondered if the oldest Immortal would take Kronos' head. Methos claimed he couldn't as they were brothers, but maybe it was because Kronos was the better swordsman, he was certainly the best Duncan had ever met. If Kronos were really going to travel without a weapon, then perhaps Methos would take his chance and take his brother's head, good or bad. Mac nodded, agreeing not to mention him to Methos, if he should hear from him. 

But he was still in the same position, should he trust one of the most evil men ever to roam the earth? If he was still evil. Glancing up, still thinking, MacLeod automatically looked to Darius' old quarters, suddenly he saw a vision or perhaps just a memory of the priest standing at the doorway, and heard his voice, "One soul at a time Duncan." 

Thinking back on how the priest had always believed that everyone, no matter who, deserved a chance of a better life, he nodded. "Okay Kronos, I'll consider it. I need to do some checking around first. Stay here and I'll get back with you." 

Kronos nodded gratefully. "Thank you MacLeod, I'm glad you're at least willing to help. Also I don't go by that name anymore. Kronos is my past. I am now Christopher Moore." 

"It's incredible Mac, but I guess it's possible." Joe Dawson placed two drinks at their table. Drawing up a seat himself, the Watcher sat down. "We know the same thing happened to Darius....and the opposite happened to you." 

"I know Joe, but this is Kronos we're talking about. What do you know of a supposed good Immortal living on Rhodes?" MacLeod had gone straight to Le Blues Bar to consult with Joe and the Chronicles to see if he could discover any truth to Kronos' story. 

"I'll check the Chronicles, but I don't ever recall hearing of one. But if what Kronos says is true, then he'd been hidden away for centuries. We may not have a record of him. Rhodes, you said...mmmm.... I vaguely remember hearing a report from one of our guys who's Immortal was whacked out there a few of months ago. It wasn't this hermit, but it may give us a hint to Kronos' activities. C'mon, bring the drink, laptop's in the back." 

"Aha, here's the report." Joe stretched, a couple of hours had passed. He and MacLeod had almost given up on finding any information on the hermit or Kronos. They had found the entry by the Watcher of the Immortal Kronos had killed before the hermit. He'd been watching this man for several years and in his report had been quite upset when his assignment was killed. Kronos had swiftly and effectively dealt with this Immortal, who had according to the report, done nothing to aggravate the Horseman. Joe couldn't find another reference to either Kronos or Panikos, the Watcher. 

Then, located in a place Joe had tried only out of frustration was a short request entry submitted by Panikos. It was received five days after his Immortal's death. Panikos requested a new assignment, to watch Kronos. It had been accepted. His first report on his new charge detailed how Kronos had met and talked with an unknown Immortal. A few weeks later, Panikos witnessed a Quickening, unlike any he had ever seen. There was the lightning of course, but surrounding both men was a brilliant bright light, Panikos described it as almost divine in nature. It almost obliterated Kronos and the corpse from view. Then as suddenly as it had appeared the light was gone. And Panikos now saw Kronos on the ground crying. 

"Well Mac, it seems to jive with what Kronos told you." 

"Yeah, but why was that so difficult to find?" 

"I dunno, a glitch in the system, Panikos sent the second report in late and it got lost, someone somehow omitted the cross references. These things happen sometimes, the Watchers aren't infallible." Mac took a long sideways look at Joe. Ever since he'd discovered them, he'd seen a lot of fallibility. "But man, it looks like Kronos is being straight." 

"I hope so, but he's going to have to prove it." 

"I agree, I'll get in touch with Panikos and tell him to keep really close tabs on Kronos. If he is faking, I can't see a man like him being able to keep up an act like that for long. If he should let his guard down, Panikos will let us know." Joe looked up at his Immortal friend, "Be careful MacLeod, this could be a very dangerous game Kronos is playing with you." 

As MacLeod turned to leave, Joe called after him. "One more thing, you may want to tell the reformed Horseman that Cassandra's in town. If, as you say, he's not carrying a sword and is telling the truth, then he'd better be careful too!" 

When MacLeod arrived back at the church, he once again found Kronos, on his knees as if in prayer. The old Immortal stood and turned as soon as he sensed MacLeod enter. "By your presence, I gather that you're willing to believe my experience." 

"Let's just say, I'm willing to give you a chance to prove yourself." 

"How?" 

"You come here to Paris, to Darius' church. What are your plans? How do you plan to help mankind?" There was a touch of sarcasm in the Highlander's voice. 

"I won't lie, I don't really know what I could do. It's not like I have any experience in this area." Kronos smiled as if he had just made a bad joke. "That's why I'd like you to help me Duncan. Teach me what Darius taught you. How to help care for people." 

MacLeod thought for a moment. "That's possible, I know of a couple of homeless shelters not far from here. They're always needing volunteers, that could be a start." 

"That sounds like a good place to start. Also do you know of someplace to stay? Despite my being reborn, I don't really like the idea of sleeping in a church." 

MacLeod's suspicions were alerted. "You are willing to go off Holy Ground? Without a sword?" 

"Yes, I may have undergone a similar phenomena as Darius, but I will not hide myself away." Kronos paused. "Don't worry Highlander, I can still defend myself, sword or no sword." 

"I wasn't worried." Duncan suddenly thought of an old saying: 'Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.' "If you want you can spend tonight at least at my place." His tone of voice betrayed his resentment. 

"Thank you." Kronos gave a slight bow, and either ignored or didn't catch the mild hostility in MacLeod's voice. 

The two men walked comfortably together, despite the fact that only a year ago they had been the deadliest of enemies. Someone watching from a distance might think that they were old friends. Mac himself, walking beside the scarred Immortal, couldn't believe that the two of them could ever have become civil to one another. He still had trouble erasing the images of those dead women and children back in Texas, and also the images his own imagination had created of the Horsemen's slaughter of Cassandra's village and others like it thousands of years ago. Could a man so evil, so psychopathic, truly have changed so much? 

The route back from St. Julien took the Immortals along the bank of the Seine. They walked into the tunnel heading towards the barge. Suddenly both men stopped, they sensed the unmistakable presence of another of their kind. As they walked cautiously into the darkness of the tunnel, they could make out the figure of a woman. Duncan signaled silently to Kronos to stay back. 

"Cassandra? I heard you'd got into town." 

"Duncan, I've been waiting for you. Do you know that..." her voice trailed off as she spotted Kronos, half hidden in the shadows. Unable to make out his features, she continued. "Do you know that Kronos is still alive and in Paris?" 

"Errr, yes I just found out." Duncan cast a nervous glance over his shoulder to Kronos. Cassandra's eyes followed. This time she studied the shadow more carefully and when she realized her greatest enemy was standing before her, she drew her sword. Kronos stepped out of the darkness and in one graceful and fluid movement dropped to both knees. 

"Aren't you going to even fight me, what's wrong with you?" Cassandra sneered. 

"Cassandra, he's changed. He's no longer Kronos." Duncan quickly closed the distance between the witch and the Horseman. 

"You believe that?" Cassandra asked in disbelief. 

"Maybe, I don't know, but if he really has changed, he deserves a chance to prove it." 

"Kronos changed? Kronos good?" Cassandra laughed madly. "You can't believe that, it has to be a trick. He's setting you up for something, appealing to your great nobility." Cassandra couldn't help but add thick sarcasm to the last few words. 

"But what if it isn't a trick. Methos had changed and you weren't willing to accept that either. I learnt the painful way that people can change, good or bad." 

"Look, if it will make her happy, make up for the crimes I committed against her and her tribe, let her take my head." Kronos, still on his knees now rested his hands on his thighs and stretched out his neck. Cassandra raised her sword. 

"No Cassandra, you can't." 

"If it will help you exorcise your hatred, then let it be," said Kronos calmly. 

Cassandra looked down to her oldest of enemies, he raised his head and looked at her full of compassion. Cassandra raised her blade higher, preparing to slice down. She let the sword fall with power towards Kronos' exposed neck, then as quick as a lightning bolt her weapon was blocked by MacLeod's katana. "No Cassandra, I want Kronos to live too!" he said repeating the same words that had saved Methos' life at the submarine base. 

The witch looked at him, eyes blazing. "You can't interfere!" 

"He deserves a chance, what if he's truly repentant and you rob what chance he has of making amends." 

"Then it's your head MacLeod." Cassandra withdrew the sword and turned to leave, but added before storming off, "He can never change. And if he and I meet again..." she left the rest unsaid. 

Kronos, still kneeling, leaned back on his heels. He took a couple of deep breaths. It had been close. "Thank you, Duncan MacLeod." 

MacLeod started to head towards the barge. "You had just better be worth all the trouble." 

Over the next few months, Kronos, or Christopher Moore as he now insisted on being called, spent most of his evenings at MacLeod's barge listening and talking to the Scot about Darius. During the daytime he divided his time between the Foyer de St. Julien shelter accommodation run in part by the monks at St. Julien and L'Orphellinat de Chretienne, a nearby orphanage supported by several of the churches in the area, again including St. Julien. Instead of visiting the barge, some evenings he would go around the bridges of the Seine, especially Pont-Neuf to try and make the some of the homeless more comfortable by giving out blankets and hot soup. He also tried to direct the vagrants to EMMAOS where they could find shelter at least for one night. 

Duncan reflected on "Christopher's" behaviour. He was quite frankly amazed. The man had totally changed from the psychopath he once was. And in all this time, MacLeod had seen nothing to indicate that the old Kronos was still around. It had crossed the Highlander's mind more than once that Kronos' act could be one big deception. But if the Horseman was acting, he was very convincing. The performance was flawless. MacLeod could not really believe that anyone could so radically pretend to change their character and maintain it for so long. He admitted that he couldn't keep an eye on Kronos the whole time, but Joe kept in close contact with Panikos, Kronos' Watcher, and the reports back were only more proof of his transformation. 

MacLeod found himself, somewhat unwillingly at first, looking forward to their conversations about Darius. Kronos seemed genuinely interested in learning about the priest and his teachings, and the Scot enjoyed talking about his old friend. He was prepared to face the fact that despite all his early doubts that Kronos was now truly a different person, it appeared obvious that he'd undergone a Light Quickening, as had Darius. It was almost too fantastic to believe, but no matter how improbable there was just no other way. 

Sitting in the barge, MacLeod poured himself another scotch. He was waiting for Kronos to arrive for their regular chat and maybe a game of chess. The former Horseman was proving as good an opponent as Darius. As he sipped at his drink he sensed the presence of another Immortal. "Come on in Christopher, it's open." 

"Christopher?" 

MacLeod looked up, standing in the doorway was Cassandra, sword in hand. "Cassandra? What are you doing here?" 

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Cassandra descended the few steps, she was obviously agitated. "I'm hunting Kronos." 

"We've been through all that, can't you see he's changed? He deserves a chance to redeem himself." 

The witch laughed, "Kronos will never change." 

"You don't know that. You can't even accept the fact that Methos has changed." 

"Changed or not, they both still need to pay for their crimes against me." 

"CASSANDRA! That was 3,000 years ago!" Duncan was beginning to think that the Witch of Donan Woods was truly obsessed with revenge, no matter how sincere or remorseful her violators were now. "Kronos has really changed, I've been watching him closely. There's no way that can be an act. Live and let live, he is really trying to make amends for his old ways." 

"There is no way that man can change, he is inherently evil and always will be." Cassandra started to look around the barge. "Where is he?" 

"Not here. Look he doesn't even carry a sword any more." 

"That'll make it easier for me then." 

"He offered you his head." 

"And if it hadn't been for your interference I would have gladly accepted it," hissed Cassandra. 

"Cassandra, please!" 

"Where is he?" The witch's voice took on a rhythmic tone. Duncan found himself looking straight into her eyes. 

"I don't know." 

She repeated her question several times in the same tone. Duncan felt himself almost being lulled to sleep; all he was aware of was her sweet, sweet voice. 

Without any warning, he found the words spilling from his mouth. "He's sometimes up at Pont-Neuf, helping the homeless there." 

Cassandra struggled to suppress a snort; the magic had to keep working for a while yet. "Thank you, Duncan." 

Duncan was still under her spell as she silently left the barge. As soon as she left though, it was broken. MacLeod looked around in bewilderment, not quite sure what had happened. Slowly it dawned on the Scot. Grabbing his sword he raced after the witch. 

The Pont-Neuf Bridge was not far from the barge, MacLeod would have to hurry to catch her, he couldn't let her reach the reformed killer. Within a few minutes, MacLeod reached her at the Place St. Michel, about halfway to where Kronos was helping vagrants. "CASSANDRA! I can't let you do this!" 

Cassandra pointed her sword at the Highlander. "No, I let you stop me from taking Methos' head. Maybe you're right, maybe he has changed. But Kronos, never." 

"Listen," desperation was beginning to edge into MacLeod's voice, "I didn't believe it, but Kronos received a Light Quickening. It changed him as it changed Darius." 

"You're comparing _him_ with Darius?" 

MacLeod hesitated, searching his soul for the truth, eventually he replied. "Yes. Look Cassandra, if you don't believe me, check with Joe. There's been a Watcher on Kronos since he received that Quickening and nothing in the reports have indicated that it's bogus." 

"He's inventive, Duncan. That monster can never be anything else." 

MacLeod shook his head. "Joe said you were obsessed, I didn't believe him then, but now?" 

Laughing in disbelief, Cassandra snarled, "Oh, I know how my namesake felt at Troy. Foretelling the truth, but never to be believed." 

"Oh, come on Cassandra, that's ridiculous." 

"Is it? Then let me pass." 

"I can't. And no magic, I'm expecting it this time." The witch took a step towards MacLeod; he raised the katana, ready to stop her. He repeated, "He's changed, he deserves a chance." 

Seeing there was no alternative and that the only way past the Solstice Child was through him, Cassandra readied her sword. She advanced. Swinging her blade ineffectively, the witch tried to strike at MacLeod. With ease he managed to parry. "Look we don't have to do this. Revenge isn't worth it." Ignoring him, Cassandra attacked again. Again MacLeod blocked her swings without a problem; he was fighting a purely defensive fight, having no desire to kill her. 

"Get out of my way, Highlander!" Her blood was up, and Cassandra would not be turned by Duncan's pleas. She now attacked with full force, many of her lunges and parries going wild, but one by luck more than design, found it's way through the Scot's defenses. It sliced his side. MacLeod gasped. Glancing at the wound, he quickly recovered when he found himself under another onslaught from the witch. She managed to strike him again, this time slashing his left arm. He now realized that the only way to stop her would be to take her head. He regained position and began applying his superior skill. Within a few seconds Cassandra was on her knees, raising his sword MacLeod prepared to strike the fatal blow. 

"I...." He couldn't finish the sentence. 

"If you're determined to stop me, it's the only way." Cassandra looked up at him. "Just remember my words, one day you will regret this." 

"I regret it already." Looking into Cassandra's blazing eyes, he could see all her hate and pain that the Horsemen had instilled in her. Closing his eyes, he swung down. Sinking to his knees he waited for the Quickening to begin. Tears rose in his eyes as the white mist surrounded him. Then suddenly his body was wracked by the bolts of her power. Eventually it ended and Duncan MacLeod collapsed over her body sobbing. 

PONT-NEUF 

"How about some soup?" 

The vagrant looked up, and was startled by the huge scar on the man's face. Living out on the streets he had become used to all types. Life was a risk, even those with nothing faced the daily fear that their lives would end and their bodies found in the grey dawn. He grunted. 

"Please, it's cold out here, if you don't want to go to the shelter, at least get something warm in you." The vagrant now looked past the scar and into the man's green eyes. The man was honest, one of these do-gooders that were always poking around, never minding their own business. But it was cold, and it would be plain stupid to refuse good food. The vagrant held his hand out. 

Kronos poured the soup into a cup. "So what's your name?" he asked as he passed the cup across. The vagrant grunted again. "Please, I like to know who's out here. In case anything happens." 

"Camembert." 

The Immortal averted his eyes, suppressing a smile. It was unsurprising how he received his name. The stench that emanated from the filthy rags he was wearing was terrible. 

"Non," Camembert continued, his toothless face as dirty, if not more so than what there was of his clothes. "It is because I am ripe for love." 

This time Kronos couldn't hold back a grin. "Not with me I hope?" The tramp laughed, the tension broken. Before long, Camembert and the former Horseman were deep in conversation. After some minutes Kronos stiffened as he felt the unique presence of an approaching Immortal. He turned away from the tramp and saw the hunched figure of MacLeod approaching. "Excuse me, Monsieur Camembert.....MacLeod, what's wrong?" 

As the younger Immortal looked up, Kronos could see the pain still in his eyes. "You took a head?" MacLeod nodded. "Who's? Not Cassandra's?" he said in disbelief. 

Again MacLeod nodded. "She gave me no choice. I had to stop her." 

"From what?" 

"From coming here, she was hunting you." 

Kronos put his arm around his former enemy's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know she was a good friend." Slowly they walked back to the barge. MacLeod was still in a terrible state when they reached it, Kronos took him inside and laid him down on the bed. Making himself as comfortable as he could on the couch, Kronos decided to stay with his new friend, he'd need the company. 

The next morning, Kronos awoke to the phone ringing. Sitting up on the couch, he looked around, MacLeod was still fast asleep and snoring loudly. Rubbing out a crick in his neck, thinking that MacLeod would really have to get better furniture, he strode over to the phone. "Hello." 

"Mac?" 

"No, it's Christopher...who is this?" 

"It's Joe. Actually I'm glad I managed to get a hold of you. I was just going to let Mac know that Methos is back in town. Thought you'd appreciate the info too." 

"Why thank you Joe. That's very considerate of you. Bye!" Kronos hung up. For a moment he just stood deep in thought; motionless except for gently tapping the receiver on his lower lip. He replaced the phone and picking up his jacket, left. 

"Morning Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and what a beautiful autumn morning it is!" 

Duncan was sitting at his desk, elbows on it and head in his hands. He had, of course, felt Methos approaching, but chose not to show any sign of expecting him. "I killed her." 

Methos' good mood would not be sullied so easily, "Who? The Wicked Witch of the North?" 

MacLeod finally looked up at Methos' grinning face, just seeing him so happy, made his mood blacker. "What are you so cheerful about?" 

Shrugging Methos sprawled on the couch. "After months of yet again, exploring this fascinating world, I have returned. Surely that should make anyone cheerful." 

"Very funny!" the Scot grunted. 

The world's oldest man sat up and turned to face him. "C'mon MacLeod, what's wrong? Who's head did you take?" 

"Cassandra's." If Methos had been eating he would have choked. He looked in amazement at MacLeod, who continued. "She refused to believed he'd changed. She was obsessed with revenge." 

_Well I could have told you that a year ago,_ thought Methos. Curiosity compelled him to ask, "Who'd changed?" 

"Kronos." stated MacLeod simply. 

"Kronos changed, you mean as in no longer evil?" MacLeod nodded. "We are talking about the same Kronos aren't we? Horseman of the Apocalypse, my former brother in arms, big ugly scarface?" 

Again MacLeod nodded. Over the next half-hour he told Death all about his reformed brother. 

Methos started laughing, "You really believe all that?" He stopped when he saw by the look in MacLeod's eyes that he did. "There is no way in hell that Kronos could ever become a man of peace." 

"That's what I thought at first, but you should see him helping the poor and destitute." 

"Sure. Look I can accept a Light Quickening changed Darius, but another one? And anyway Darius at his worst was a hundred times nicer than Kronos at his best." 

"He's been closely watched. It would be impossible for someone like the old Kronos to keep up such a façade for so long. Methos, just come and see for yourself." 

Sprawling back on the couch again, Methos replied, "Oh I think I just might have to." 

"An orphanage MacLeod? Somehow, I'm having a hard time picturing Kronos with a bunch of kids." 

The two Immortals had arrived at L'Orphellinat de Chretienne, the orphanage where Kronos spent most of his afternoons. MacLeod had ceased listening to Methos early on during their trip to see Kronos. But the oldest Immortal still made one-sided conversation. 

"Oh what was it you said his name was now? Oh yes, Christopher Moore. Well at least it isn't as geeky as the names he usually picks. Quite ordinary in fact. Never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually looking forward to seeing him tucking all the little kiddies in for their naps." 

"Will you shut up?" said MacLeod, finally sick of Methos' incessant babbling. 

Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, Methos replied, "Ah! Lovely thing to say, and you were teaching Kronos how to love his fellow man?" 

Before MacLeod could answer, they both felt it, the telltale buzz of another Immortal's presence. "Well it seems like he's here." said Duncan. 

Methos became serious. "Seems so." 

Inside the orphanage Kronos was sitting in the common room with half a dozen children around him, reading a story. The children had long ago become used to Kronos' appearance, his features had scared them at first, but now after months of regular visits they loved to hear him read. He immersed himself in the stories, adding character to the voices. The children especially thought he could play a bad person really well, his Big Bad Wolf voice was wonderful. 

He looked up when his new friend and former brother entered. "Hi Mac, and...oh." he paused, "...hi Adam, glad you could drop by. Children these are two friends of mine, do say hello to Mr. MacLeod and Mr. Pierson." 

"Bonjour" said the children in chorus. 

Methos was staring intently at Kronos trying to spot an opening that would show the Kronos he knew. There was none. The man looked happy, contented and serene. He was enjoying playing with the children, it seemed he was a totally different person in the same body. 

"So Adam, are you surprised at the new me?" 

"Oh! I think the old you is still inside there somewhere." 

"You mean to say you don't trust me brother?" Kronos grinned and for the briefest of moments Methos saw the old Kronos. As soon as it appeared it had disappeared again behind a friendly smile. Glancing over to MacLeod, Methos hoped that the Highlander had spotted that instant, but Mac's attention was being held by one of the children. 

"I knew it." 

"Knew what Adam?" asked Kronos innocently. "That I haven't changed. You just knew the old me too well, like Cassandra you think it's impossible. Christopher Moore is quite different." 

Methos shook his head and walked over to MacLeod. "Mac!" he whispered, "you have been so wrong. I saw it. He is still good old Kronos." 

"Methos you haven't seen him during these months." 

"I haven't needed to. He is still Kronos," added Methos firmly, and with that he stalked off. Duncan and Kronos exchanged glances, Kronos shrugged as if to say "I knew it wouldn't work." MacLeod shrugged back and went after the old man. 

As soon as both Immortals had left, Kronos stood up to full height, stretched his arms above his head, "Yes!" The children looked up at him in surprise. After a moment the Horseman looked down, a wicked, mischievous smile spread across his features. "Boo!" he whispered. The children fled in terror. 

After leaving the orphanage, Kronos made his way first to Pont-Neuf. He wanted to find Camembert, he needed to find a pair of mortal eyes. Sure enough the old vagrant was sleeping under the structure of the bridge. Kronos kicked him. 

"Wake up, I've a job for you." 

The vagrant blearily looked up at the man. "You're the soup man." 

"Was. I want you to hide up near a barge across from Notre Dame, about a 10-minute walk along the river. Tell me who you see and what you hear." Camembert held is hand out in payment for services to be rendered. Kronos smiled, bent down close to the man and hissed into his ear. "Your payment is your life." The vagrant shuddered. Kronos continued, "but here's a few francs, get a bath, I don't want your smell giving you away. And if you don't, I will find you." Camembert looked into those revenge filled green eyes and believed him totally. 

The door to Kronos' apartment was slightly ajar when the Horseman arrived back. Bending down and drawing the small pistol from its holster strapped to his leg, he crept in. He raised the gun as the figure turned around. "You!" Kronos exclaimed. "You don't ever come here." 

"I know, but I had to check, I heard you scared the kids at the orphanage." 

"So? Your job is to feed the Watchers reports on me. We cannot be seen together." Kronos moved menacingly towards Panikos, his Watcher, his gun leveled at the Greek's head. He stopped when the gun was a couple of inches from flesh. "I employed you for that reason only." 

Panikos was visibly unnerved. "But...but I had to check...to see why you'd suddenly showed yourself." 

"It's none of your business, but it's time for my plan to be executed." He lingered on the last word. "You've done your job very well Panos, I'm grateful." Kronos used his nickname to put him at ease. 

"It's not like I had a choice," grinned the Watcher nervously as Kronos circled him; pistol still aimed unerringly at his head. 

"No, my friend. It was a stroke of good fortune I found you and all those lovely Watcher records. I'm glad you were so co-operative, but I wonder what your superiors in the Watchers would do to you if they find out you so completely broke your sacred oath." Panikos said nothing, Kronos chuckled, "I doubt it would be anything pleasant. Tell you what Panos, seeing as you've done so well, I'll take care of you. You won't have to worry about the Watchers hunting you down." 

Panikos smiled in relief. He had met Kronos a few hours after the Horseman had defeated his Immortal on Rhodes. Obviously Kronos had seen him observing and had followed him after the fight. It hadn't taken very long after that first meeting for Kronos to discover all about the Watchers and their Chronicles. Shortly after this discovery Kronos had 'encouraged' Panikos to request a new assignment: himself. 

"In fact, you won't have to worry about anything anymore." Kronos brought Panikos out of his memories, terror sprang in his eyes as he realized what Kronos just said. It was too late, grinning like the psychopath he was, Kronos pulled the trigger. He was standing so close to his victim that blood splattered onto his face; still grinning he wiped himself clean. Sighing, he thought to himself, _That felt so good!_

Before changing into his more familiar clothes, Kronos picked up the phone and dialed. When there was an answer, he affected Christopher's worried voice. "Joe? It's me Christopher. I just got back to my apartment and there's a dead body on my floor...I looked, and it's one of your people, a Watcher...Joe, I'm afraid it could be Methos...Because I know when he saw me today, he didn't accept who I am...No, he wants me dead, I remind him of what he was. You've got to talk to him...Okay, but I'm leaving this place now." 

Kronos hung up. Grinning he stripped off his off-the-rack suit that had been his trade mark for the last few months and with relief changed into his well loved jeans and a T-shirt. Before putting the jeans on he removed the small holster strapped to his calf and laid it on the bed. Fetching a belt and a larger holster he looped it through his pants. Finally, from the closet he pulled his leather jacket, he paused for a moment, admiring it. The jacket had been as much a part of him in the past few years as his scar always had been. He'd missed it. Digging into one of its pocket he pulled out a Browning 9mm, a much larger and menacing gun than the small Wallther he'd used to kill Panikos. His final act before leaving the apartment was to slick back his long scruffy hair. 

St. Julien was quiet, it was still daytime and many of the brothers were busy at various shelters and other charities. Kronos walked into the church and up to a statue of some saint, he had no idea who. Feeling behind the marble figure, his hand touched cold steel. He grinned, it was still here in the safe hiding place he had left it. His sword, a unique piece, just like himself. He checked the blade, still as perfect as the day he'd hidden it, on Darius' birthday. Making his way out of the church, he found a quiet alley, Kronos needed to warm up. Over the last few months, there had been no chance for any sword practice and he would need to be at his best. 

"How can you say that Methos?" Duncan's voice was raised. 

"Because I know him better than any man alive." Methos kept his voice even and low. He did not want to lose his temper with his friend, but it was becoming a struggle. He had tried to convince MacLeod that Kronos hadn't changed again, but the Scot was being so stubborn. "Look MacLeod, I saw him, at the orphanage, the old Kronos was there. He allowed me see that." 

"And why would he do that?" The anger was rising in MacLeod now. Ever since Methos had returned to the barge, about an hour ago, he'd insisted that he'd see this evil glint in his former brother's eye. Duncan was certain the old man imagined it, in his determination not to see the new Kronos. 

"Because it was me!" 

"You imagined it! In months of being closely watched the man hasn't put a foot wrong." 

"You said that already!" Methos sniped. "I didn't imagine it, and Kronos is very clever." 

"Oh to be that good, he'd deserve an Oscar. You're going senile in your old age!" 

"Oh! So we're down to trading insults, is that it?" Methos stared furiously at MacLeod who, with hands on hips, glared right back. 

Duncan calmed down slightly. "Look, I made a mistake when I found out you were one of the Four Horsemen. I judged you too harshly, I couldn't accept that you could have changed, even though I knew you." He paused. "I couldn't make that mistake again." 

"So you pick Kronos to be charitable to!" Methos roared with laughter. He picked up his coat. "I'm leaving, don't fancy meeting Kronos on a moonless night with only a couple of pieces of sharpened steel between us." 

"He doesn't have a sword anymore." 

"Yeah right! Well I'm sure he has it tucked away somewhere safe." 

"METHOS!" Duncan yelled. He wanted his friend to stay. He hated that they should part on such bad terms. He wished there was some way he could convince him of the truth. 

Methos turned to leave, coat slung over his shoulder. He would not be back until Kronos was gone. Suddenly the phone rang. Methos paused to listen as MacLeod grabbed the receiver. "Hi Joe...What?...Jeez! No." MacLeod glanced up at the Oldest Immortal. "Sure Joe, Thanks." 

"Methos where did you go after the orphanage?" 

"Why?" asked the old man suspiciously. 

"A Watcher has just wound up dead in Kronos' apartment." 

"And? Oh, you think I did it. Tell me MacLeod...why do you think that?" Methos' voice was dripping in sarcasm. 

"Kronos called Joe, telling him he'd found a dead Watcher at his place. He thinks you did it. That you really came for him." 

Lowering his head in frustration for a moment, then meeting Duncan in the square in the eye. "Tell me why couldn't my old brother have done this? He is the killer here." 

"And so were you Methos, once. Where's your gun?" 

He couldn't believe it. "Ha! Are you serious?" Seeing that the Highlander was indeed serious, Methos continued. "I don't have it on me, search me!" 

"No thanks, then where is it? And where were you?" 

"Oh! And are you the police now? I'm outta here." Methos once again turned to leave, but MacLeod managed to grab his arm. 

"We are both leaving and going to your place, and you're going to prove to me that you have the gun." MacLeod's voice was low and almost trembling with barely controlled rage. 

"Fine" sneered Methos pulling his arm free. 

Kronos watched the barge, but far enough away that the other two Immortals wouldn't sense his presence. He had just arrived, silently he signaled Camembert, lying atop the barge to come over. Within in a few moments the old tramp was at Kronos' side. 

"Well?" 

"There's two in there, one is the man you were speaking to last night. The other, young with short dark hair." 

Kronos grabbed Camembert's ragged coat. "Just tell me what they were saying!" 

"They were arguing, shouting about someone named Kronos. The short haired one went to leave, but stayed when the phone rang. That's when you signaled me over. Did I do good?" asked the vagrant, decrepit gloved hand held out for payment. 

Grinning evilly, Kronos said, "Yes, you did well." A knife that had been hidden in his sleeve, slipped down into his palm. He slowly plunged it into Camembert's gut, twisting it. The tramp would die a slow, painful death. Kronos left him to bleed to death, the tramp never made a sound, apart from a gasp; he just looked down in shock at the knife. If the Horseman guessed correctly, that phone call was from Joe informing MacLeod about Panikos' death. Within moments he should know whether his plan had worked. 

The two Immortals walked down the gangway and onto the quayside. To Kronos it almost looked as if Methos was being pushed along. The two weren't shouting now, but were still clearly exchanging heated words. Kronos stepped down from his vantage point, his long sword in his left hand. He stopped in some shadows under the bridge until they were close enough to feel his presence. They stopped as he knew they would and Kronos stood out, grinning like the cat that just found the cream. The Horseman directed his gaze at Methos. 

"Greetings brother." 

"Christopher?" asked Duncan not wanting to believe his eyes. 

"Not anymore more. I'm back to my true self, bad arsed Kronos." 

MacLeod exchanged a glance with Methos, who just shrugged in an 'I told you so' manner. "But why?" 

Chuckling at MacLeod's disbelief, and raising his eyebrows, Kronos said, "Why not?" 

Slowly Methos started to edge away from his friend, Duncan looked at him again, at the same time not daring to let his eyes leave Kronos. "Methos, I don't know what to say." 

"Then say nothing, MacLeod," Methos stopped his retreat. "I can't fathom how you could believe him over me, or Cassandra for that matter." His anger lashed out, "He has played you well MacLeod, hook, line and fucking sinker. It's sad when someone I consider my friend believes a proven psychopath over me! Hell, you were even ready to toss me in jail and throw away the key for murder." 

"Methos!?" MacLeod looked lost in confusion. His world was slowly disintegrating, all he understood was crumbling. His friend felt betrayed, and the trust he had placed in Kronos was worthless. 

"Fuck off! I'm done with you!" Methos began to stalk off. 

"Stay where you are." Methos froze. Kronos had enjoyed listening to them fight, hearing Methos' rage. Knowing that the Methos from long ago still existed. This is what he wanted, to split up and destroy the two who had destroyed the Horsemen. It had taken so much self-control, but he'd succeeded. And it had even been fun. 

Kronos reached behind him and drew his gun from its holster. "I came for his head," he said nodding to MacLeod. "But I wouldn't want you to interfere now. Would I?" He leveled the gun at Methos and fired twice. The bullets pierced the old man's heart. Gasping, Methos managed to look up at MacLeod with an expression of immeasurable scorn. 

Kronos threw the gun onto the concrete and deftly kicked it out of the way, switching his blade to his right hand, he addressed MacLeod who was still staring at Methos' body. "Just you and me Highlander, as it should be." 

"Just tell me why. Why this elaborate plan? What was the point?" 

"To bring you down like a house of cards. You destroyed the only thing I wanted, the Horsemen. Did you think I could forgive you both? My own brother betrayed us! He set you up to do a job he didn't have the guts to do himself...finish me!" Kronos paused, collecting his rage, he'd need it for the fight. "I wanted you to trust me, as I once trusted him. To believe me and then to destroy that belief and at the same time your precious friendship. Even if, by the slightest of chances you do beat me, then you and he are through forever, and I still win. Your judgment and honour gave him something to strive for and you've shattered that dream for him. Why Duncan MacLeod? Because I want to see you crushed emotionally and now physically." 

By this time Duncan had drawn his sword and the two men had begun circling each other. "I don't think you've crushed me Kronos." 

"Really? That look on your face a few minutes ago was priceless. You really believed I'd suffered a Light Quickening." Kronos laughed slightly. 

MacLeod couldn't reply, it was true he was totally bewildered by the events. He'd been played for a fool all this time and happily too. He remembered Cassandra and her warning, she really could see what he couldn't and he had taken her life, and also destroyed Methos' respect for him. The katana was raised in readiness for battle, Kronos was prepared. 

The swords came together and the fight was joined. If Kronos had thought that wrecking Duncan's psyche would make him an easier target he was mistaken. Now it was for revenge, Cassandra's and Methos', MacLeod fought as hard as ever. But he still found himself outclassed. Kronos attacked relentlessly and it was all the Scot could do to parry in defense. Suddenly, on a damp slimy cobble, Kronos' footing slipped and MacLeod saw his advantage. Recovering instantly, Kronos rolled away from MacLeod's lunge and was back on his feet like a cat. 

The two circled for a moment, then joined in battle again. Their swords interlocked, the katana trapped between the guard and barbs of the Horseman's bastard sword. With one efficient movement, Kronos jerked the blade from MacLeod's hands. The katana fell clanging onto the cobbles, it was swiftly kicked clear by the Horseman. In a moment Kronos ran through the defenseless Highlander. Kronos would remember with great satisfaction the look of surprise, horror and pain mixed together on the Highlander's face. He slowly withdrew his blade and MacLeod sank slowly to his knees. Without hesitation Kronos swung. By the next second Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, the Highlander was dead. 

Kronos, Pestilence, Leader of the Four Horsemen, stood in triumph as he waited for the Quickening. As the lightning and power raged through his body, a figure was recovering. Methos had revived and he stared up at his former brother in horror. He wished he could take up his sword and strike at Kronos now, but he was still too weak from the healing process. 

Once the Quickening had ceased, Kronos, weakened but still strong enough, walked up to Methos, picked him up off the ground, and pushed him towards the road. "Come brother we have things to plan." Methos, the survivor, didn't say a word, just walked next to his brother in silence. Kronos grinned at the oldest Immortal mirthlessly, putting an arm around his shoulder in brotherhood. Methos smiled nervously in return, wondering what the Horseman had planned for him. 

In the quiet of the aftermath, there was a soft sobbing sound. Out of the shadows of the bridge and slowly walking in the opposite direction to the Horsemen was a sad, hunched figure. After a while the sobbing faded and all that could be heard was the soft tap of a cane on the pavement. 

The End

© 1999   
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readers since 01/13/1999 

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